


Behind Enemy Lines

by freakofgeeks



Series: Behind Enemy Lines [1]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Content, Swearing, Violence, hurt!Hawkeye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakofgeeks/pseuds/freakofgeeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawkeye and BJ are swept up in a whirlwind- the start of an illicit, albeit enjoyable affair that the two of them never imagined. Right when an affair begins to turn into something more, Hawkeye is captured by invading North Korean soldiers. Unspeakable, unimaginable events ensue. Can the two captains handle it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this drafted for quite a while now. I'm not sure how many chapters this will be, but this is version one of this story. When this story is completed, a second version will be posted (they will be together as a "series") that will NOT include MPREG. I'm aware it's quite a turn-off for many, and intend to write a second version of this story that heads in a direction that doesn't include it. If you're interested, that will come later.

They didn’t know how it had happened. As cliché as it was, one thing simply lead to another and they ended up somewhere that neither had believed possible in all their years. The _affair_ , as much as BJ hated the thought, had started a few weeks ago in the supply tent, and they’d kept ending up back there ever since that day.

On that day, they’d received an excess of wounded, that never seemed to stop pouring in. Hawk had been wondering why Hill 403 was so goddamn valuable. As soon as someone took it, someone else snatched it back, like two children with a dollar store toy. Between ambulances and helicopters bounding in over the hills, they were trying to sleep and eat and shower, and hang on to their humanity. At the end of the day, not only were they spent, but so were their supplies.

“Nurse Kellye, can I get some-“ the dark-haired doctor turned around, ready to rattle off a list of things needed from supply, when he saw that the nurse he happened to be speaking to was slumped in a chair beside a patient bed, fast asleep, chart still in hand. He didn’t blame her. There were only 24 hours in a day and they’d managed to work all 25 of them. Hawkeye laughed lightly, “I’ll get them.”

Standing from his own bedside chair and hanging up the clipboard he’d had, with a chart that belonged to a kid who didn’t look like he was old enough to shave, let alone shoot, he yawned and arched his back, stretching widely.

“I hear ya.”

Hawkeye turned around to see BJ, almost out of the door to post-op himself, looking just as ragged as he was, “I’ve got to head over to supply, and then I’m turning in for the week. Care to join me?” he asked

“What do you know, I had the same plans.” Replied Hawkeye, sauntering out the door in the way that only he could, holding it open just long enough for BJ, “I think our work would be a lot easier if we installed a giant magnet on the ceiling of the OR.”

BJ raised an eyebrow as they crossed the compound for the supply tent, “Oh? How do you figure that?” he asked, amused at the thought. Days had turned to nights had turned to days and turned to nights again, though they’d been in the OR for all of it. Right now it was dark, though it was anyone’s guess if it was AM or PM. Korea was cool at night this time of year, and not completely unpleasant.

“These kids come through with so much shrapnel in them, I think a magnet could do our job in half the time.”

The taller man couldn’t help but laugh, “That would probably cut our time in half. However, if we’re not careful, it might do the same to us!” he laughed, opening the wobbly plywood door to the supply tent and giving an exaggerated bow, “Right this way, good sir.”

Hawkeye obliged gladly, “Oh, yes, thank you. I say, the service here is lovely. Now if we could just do something about the bombing.”

“This neighborhood really has gone to the dogs.” BJ added, now perusing the aisles- if hastily assembled Army-grade stacks of wood shelves counted as “aisles”- for gauze while Hawkeye looked for blankets.

“Jeez, do you think Zale could have this place in a bigger mess?” Hawkeye grumbled, reaching over BJ for a box of blankets teetering dangerously over the edge of a top shelf.

“Do you think you could be any more in my way?” BJ fired back, though it was in the tone that he used to frequently with Hawkeye that was indicative of no hostility, simply well thrown sarcasm, “Hey, will you watch out? These shelves are liable to-“

Hawkeye had finally yanked down the box of blankets, and brought the shelf with him. He’d stumbled over BJ trying to get out of the way of the shelf, and in turn, yanked the other doctor with him. It wasn’t like the supply tent could look any worse than it already was, but Margaret might have a fit when she saw.

“… Tip.” BJ finished, his friend laying across him, box of blankets slid across the floor, “Liable to tip.”

Hawkeye slid off of his friend, dusting himself off. After all, dust made the bloodstains of OR look tacky. “Come on Beej, let’s just get this stuff back to post-op. Zale can sort this out in the morn-“

When the dark-haired doctor turned around to face his fellow officer, he noticed something… off. BJ was still on the ground, hastily gathering up boxes of gauze that were no longer neatly stacked, head turned away from the other doctor. Hawkeye slid back down to the floor, “Hey, BJ, you didn’t get hurt in that mess, did you? C’mere, let me look at y-“the doctor didn’t finish his words, it was then he noticed why BJ wasn’t speaking to him.

Straining against the other Captain’s olive drab army pants was a painfully obvious erection. Hawkeye was usually the first to have a reply to any situation, and he wasn’t going to change his colors here, “Hey, Beej, c’mon. It’s perfectly natural. You of all people should know that, you’re a doctor for Christ’s sake.” He said, trying to ease the awkwardness- not to mention the tension- of the situation.

“Yeah, sure, Hawk.” BJ replied curtly, continuing to gather up gauze, until he managed to drop it again. “I’ll meet you back in The Swamp.” He said, still refusing to look at the other doctor

Hawkeye had no intention of leaving. BJ was his closest friend, and he didn’t want to leave things unsettled, or leave BJ feeling bad about himself or anything else, “Look, it’s okay. It’s been a while, yeah? You miss Peg. It’s normal.” He said, trying to soothe the other doctor

BJ fidgeted for a moment while re-gathering gauze, “Yeah, Peg…”

The dark-haired doctor looked perplexed, “What, not Peg? Then why do you feel bad abou- Is this because I fell on you? Because I was on top of you?” he asked, an air of apprehensive curiosity in his tone. That wasn’t something either of them ever talked about, though in all honesty, it wasn’t that unlikely. They were closer than two humans could ever be, and when that happens, attraction can develop like anything else.

“Just go back to the damn Swamp, Hawk, and I’ll see you in a few minutes.” BJ snapped, this time, with hostility.

Hawkeye was silent. BJ? Turned on by him? Never in his wildest dreams, and believe you him, he had them. Hawkeye _loved_ sex. He really didn’t care who with. Sex was sex, and sex was fun. Sex was the only truly pleasurable thing in this hellhole. Of course, you didn’t go spouting off about things like that. Bad things happened to people who said that. It could get him a discharge, but not one that he would want. That kind of discharge would follow him to the states and kill any chance of a career. So he flaunted his love for nurses, and kept his penchant for doctors to himself.

“BJ, it’s alright. I… I understand.”

After what seemed like far too long, BJ finally spoke up, “You know it’s… it’s not…” he tossed the gauze into the box of blankets, as if sick of its existence, “I just… I don’t know how-“ he was cut off by Hawkeye moving ever closer, one hand sliding up BJ’s leg, closer and closer to the bulging erection in his pants. BJ was aching with every touch, every move. He didn’t know how much he wanted Hawkeye until now, or how much he missed sex in general. His cock was throbbing with anticipation as Hawkeye moved closer. BJ should have said ‘no, I’m married’ or something of the like, but the words wouldn’t come. Oh, but he would.

“Feel free to stop me.” Hawkeye said in a low tone, though he meant it.

“Why would I go and do a silly thing like that?” BJ laughed nervously, eyes locked on the dark-haired doctor. He noticed, by this point, he wasn’t the only one aroused by the situation. Tentatively, he reached forward, sliding a hand across Hawk’s chest, down his stomach, and then down his pants, grasping the other doctor’s swollen cock.

Hawkeye smiled devilishly, “Looks like you found me out.” He grinned, sliding forward even more and yanking BJ’s pants open, buttons a distant thought as he slid them down enough to expose the other man’s erection, which was dripping furiously at this point. “You’re making a mess. Let me get that.”

Before BJ could fully comprehend the implication in that, Hawkeye dove down, lips encircling the other man’s cock as he worked his tongue back and forth over the sensitive skin. BJ leaned back in pure ecstasy, a low moan escaping his lips- he was afraid to be much louder, as it was only a tent at the end of the day. Hawkeye bobbed his head up and down furiously, one of his own hands holding onto his own cock and stroking while he worked over BJ with his mouth.

Whether it was how long it had been, or just how fucking turned on he was by Hawkeye in that moment, it didn’t take long at all for BJ to come in the man’s mouth, his body shaking with the release, back arching in unrestrained pleasure. He felt so good he didn’t even give another thought to what they’d just done. Then again, maybe he didn’t want to think too hard on it.

BJ didn’t think too deeply on it that night, or any nights after. They continued meeting in the supply tent when they were sure they wouldn’t be disturbed. Once they had even risked a quickie in the showers. Sometimes he thought about Peg, but he tried not to. This would stop when the war did. This would never go home with him. It never had to. It never could. The thought made his heart drop in his chest, so he didn’t think about it. Peg was his wife. Hawkeye was his… friend. A very close friend. _A lover._

One long night found them in the supply tent, after a long day in OR. The wounded were coming in with no breaks these days, and it was hitting everyone hard.

“The fighting’s getting worse, don’t you think?” Hawkeye mused, sprawled out on a cot next to BJ behind the last shelf in the supply tent.

“I think that’s an understatement.” BJ replied. However, before Hawkeye could get another word in, sarcastic or otherwise, a loud commotion was stirring outside.

“What in the hell is going on out there?” The dark-haired doctor spat, hopping up and hastily dressing. BJ followed suit as Hawkeye stepped out of the supply tent, and he was instantly greeted with complete chaos. “God dammit, where’s Potter?” he grumbled

As if reading his thoughts, the white-haired Colonel raced up to them, a folded up cot under his arm, “Glad I found you boys!” he exclaimed, gesturing to BJ, who was now present, “We’re bugging out! We’re about to become ‘the front’ if we don’t move back! North Korean troops inbound and we’ve got to skidaddle!”

“Bugging out now? Like this? Just great. We have patients fresh out of surgery!” Hawkeye protested

“No time for your complaining, Pierce! We’ve got to go! Where’s Klinger?!” the Colonel roared, heading off in search of the company clerk

“I’ll get packing, go check on the patients.” BJ said, giving Hawkeye a quick pat on the shoulder before darting off.

With no time for protest, Hawkeye darted off to post-op to try and make good on the M-for-mobile policy. When he got into the OR, what he saw wasn’t promising.

A group of five or so soldiers were dragging patients out of their beds and loading them into a U.S Army ambulance they’d no doubt acquired through unsavory means in this mess. It only took one look at the uniforms for Hawkeye to know they were North Korean.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?! Those are sick people, some of them yours!” he bellowed, charging forward. Before he could make another move, one of the soldiers slammed the stock of his gun against Hawkeye’s head.

The doctor was beginning to lose equilibrium, but if he didn’t do something, he was going to lose a lot more, “BEEJ! BJ! HELP IN O.R!” he cried, hoping his words made it across the chaotic compound.

Another blow to the head, and Hawkeye fell into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, yes. I felt this was the best way to separate scenes I had planned. I'll be posting another chapter directly after this one, some time this evening. Again, apologies for an obscenely short posting. Expect more very soon.

BJ hated bugging out. He hated it even more when it was in the wee hours of the morning and the only light was coming from explosions in the not-so-distant hills. He had hurriedly packed the still, their most important possession, into an extra foot locker Klinger had “acquired” for them. The tall doctor had just dropped the lid on the foot locker and was stacking it with the other two-one belonging to him, the other to Hawkeye, when he heard his bunkmate’s screams from the other side of the compound.

“Hawk! Hold on!” he called back, skidding out of the collapsing tent- some nurses were pulling tents down, as there had been no time to properly evacuate them in this catastrophe- and running to the sound of his…. friend’s cries. BJ determined the screams to be coming from one of the Ops-post, pre, or OR itself- and ran through each building looking for the other doctor.

“Hawk! Hawkeye!” he yelled, until he stopped short in post-op just in time to see a group of North Korean uniforms loading his friend into the back of a confiscated ambulance. “Hey! Stop! The hell do you think you’re doing?” BJ cried, breaking into a full run after the ambulance as the doors closed and it began to pull away, “Get back here! That’s not yours, and neither is he!”

 _Because he’s mine_ , BJ thought. An absent thought, a passing one, a fleeting thought, but it was there.

He chased the ambulance until he couldn’t see the road and couldn’t keep up any longer. The doctor sputtered on his feet, hands holding his head as if it would explode if he didn’t try to keep it together. “Dammit! Dammit, dammit, god dammit!” he screamed, to the empty night air. Shaking in anger, in panic, he raced back to camp, directly to the commanding officer.

“Potter! Potter! Get out here!” he screamed, voice beginning to waiver

After several confused moments, amongst the chaos, Colonel Potter emerged holding Sophie’s saddle, “Hunnicut! It’s Colonel Potter to you, and I believe I’m the one who does the commanding here! Just because this bugging out interrupts your beauty rest is no reason to disres-“

BJ cut off the older man, “Hawkeye’s gone! Some North Koreans took him, and some patients I think, in one of our ambulances! I saw them pulling out of post-op!” he spat hurriedly

“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!” Potter bellowed, face turning bright red and them paling in a matter of seconds, “Which way did they go?”

“East of the mine field! I’m going to take a jeep after them, where’s Rizzo?” Bj demanded forcefully- something that was not to be done with even Colonel Potter

“Cow cookies! Like hell you will! We’re still bugging out! If we don’t get out of here in the next ten minutes, we’ll all be taken by the enemy! You can go after him when we get somewhere new, I’ll have Klinger call ICORPS and see what they can do. Go pack something up and start pulling out! And that’s an order!” Potter bellowed, stomping his foot for effect.

BJ hissed a few obscenities under his breath, “Fine, if that’s what you want. Fine! As soon as we park it somewhere, I’m gone.” He warned. He could be court-martialed, he could be killed. He didn’t care.

Potter didn’t protest this time. He hadn’t wanted to be so harsh, but it was a tough choice in a tough situation and he had no other options. He wanted to find Pierce as much as BJ, but right now, he had a whole camp to worry about.

BJ could only worry about Hawkeye. He had to get him back. He just had to.

He _needed_ to.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Normally, Hawkeye missed home. He missed his father. He missed his house. His friends. He missed fresh Maine lobster on a breezy evening. He never knew life would get bad enough that he would miss the 4077th. He missed hearing people speak English. He even missed Charles’ stupid records.

He missed BJ. God, he missed BJ the most right now. BJ was the reason he was keeping himself alive in this war. BJ made life bearable, BJ was his voice of reason when it all became too much and he wanted to do something stupid. Such as yelling at a group of North Koreans who were stealing their patients and then proceeding to run towards them instead of backing out.

The ambulance ride had been hell. Whoever was driving, couldn’t. They’d managed to hit every pothole in Korea. At least, he hoped they had been potholes and not people. The drive wasn’t that long, twenty minutes tops. Hawkeye still had no clue where they were. When they arrived wherever they had arrived to, which looked like an old building that had converged into a hillside, the soldiers loaded them- Hawkeye and the stolen patients- into it. He’d only briefly gotten a look at the area- craters made by bombs, shell fragments and mortar remains littered everywhere. It looked like there hadn’t been a fight here for a few weeks at most.

Nobody spoke English, or at least, no one spoke English to him. He kept trying, though. He kept up his sarcasm, his wit, his insults. Each one hit a wall and shattered, proving futile. Everything was proving futile. He was starting to lose hope in everything. Even his humor.

The soldiers had kept them locked up in a dark, damp room. The door opened once a day, and battered silver trays were slid in, across the floor. It was cold. It was musty. It was miserable. Hawkeye had examined every inch with his hands, trying to find a crack, a nail, anything that might help him. Anything at all. He found nothing.

One by one the patients were dying. Five of them arrived, and only one remained. They had been fresh out of OR when the soldiers threw them onto the ambulance- which, in reality, was just a bus with a red cross painted on it. Hawkeye knew it was his job to keep these boys alive, but he wondered why they had taken wounded men. Some had been Korean- north or south, he was unsure- and some had been American, so it couldn’t have been hostages, could it?

The doctor was without any medical supplies, so he did what he could with the little he had trying to keep the boys- rest assured, they were not old enough to be men- alive. Occasionally, one of the soldiers would come take one of them. Maybe the boy wouldn’t be brought back. Maybe he would be brought back in worse condition. It was different every time. Hawkeye didn’t know why they were taking them.

It was after several weeks- maybe a month, he figured. He’d been trying to keep track of time best he could- that Hawkeye was the only one left. He was angry. He was sick. He was in pain. He wanted to know why no one had come. He wanted to know why no one had found him. If they had even looked. If the Army had done anything at all. He doubted that- the Army never did anything for them except arm them.

The cold and damp and lack of good- if any, some days- food had weakened him, and standing was a task in itself now. If he did stand, his head filled with air and his eyes blurred. He didn’t stand a lot. He knew he had to, or he might start losing use of his muscles. He had a black eye and a broken arm, possibly a broken rib or two. He wasn’t coherent enough to tell. He figured out very quickly that it was indeed his job to take care of these boys. Every time one died in the room, one of the soldiers came would yell and scream at him, thought he didn’t understand a word of it. He would get kicked and punched, which he supposed meant, “Do better next time.” He was giving it his all already.

Now he was alone. The last boy had died this morning, drowning in his own blood. Hawkeye couldn’t do anything but wait for the soldiers to come in and discover this. He didn’t know what would happen to him, what with being the last one left.

It was several hours before the door was opened, letting in small bits of light. Hawkeye shielded his eyes- it’d been a while since he’d seen that much light. The soldier took a look at the now-dead boy beside Hawkeye. The doctor braced for impact. But it never came. The soldier called back out into the hall and two more came in, each one taking Hawkeye by one arm and yanking him out of the room.

“Hey, what’s the big idea? You gonna let me go now? That’s what I’d do. And I know me, I give good advice.” He said. He’d never lost his humor. It was all he had. Even though his voice waivered and choked, it would always have a joke.

Before he knew what was going on, he felt himself hoisted up and laid down on what had to have been a table. Someone in full scrubs came in, while the two that carried him in began to strip him. Oh, this didn’t look good. Hawkeye protested wildly, adrenaline kicking in, “Oh no you don’t, no way in hell, buddy! Trust me, I’ve been there!” he said, though his body was too weak to put up the fight he’d liked, even with the adrenaline.

As a mask was put over his face, and he began breathing in air that he knew would put him to sleep, he heard a voice that was distinctly familiar.

“Let me know when you’re done here, I’ll deliver him.”

That was English. The first English he’d heard in too long. Oh, and he knew that voice! He’d heard it before, and he knew it. If only he could remember a name, a face, anything. He knew that voice, thought. That was all the information he had. He knew that goddamn voice and he would run with that as far as he could.

A few more breaths in, and he was out like a light. His last thought a hopeless one;

_What if I don’t wake up?_


	4. Chapter 4

Hawkeye came to with muffled voices going back and forth. Mostly Korean, with one voice speaking English. The English voice would speak and get replies in Korean. That’s it, that was the English voice he heard before he went under. That’s the voice he knew, and it was eating away at his insides that he couldn’t remember the person that voice belonged too. It was so close, on the tip of his tongue, and he couldn’t think of it for the life of him.

Speaking of his insides, that’s when he realized what he was waking up from. Something felt very wrong, and very painful inside of him. Then again, he’d obviously had some sort of major surgery so what could he really come to expect? What could they have done? Were they taking organs to sell on the black market? Wouldn’t it have been easier to hijack an ambulance or take hostages in battle? Why would they take wounded kids for that? Especially with the damage already done and the risk of infection?

Something felt very wrong, but he was in too much pain to figure out what they’d done. What were they going to do with him now? He couldn’t find his voice to speak up, or crack a joke, and he felt completely exposed.

“He’s ready?”

That was the English voice. English was a second language, though. It was barely detectable, as whoever it was had learned English very well, but he’d been here long enough to know the difference. Some Korean was spoken back to the voice.

“He’ll survive. He’s a doctor, after all.”

This person knew who he was. That was even more terrifying. More Korean was exchanged.

“Load him into the jeep. We’ll leave right away.”

Jeep? As in the magical vehicle that could hit every pothole in Korea and was made of the cheapest Army-grade materials known to the Pacific Theater? That ‘jeep?’

While his mind raced with possibilities of who it could be, or more accurately, who it was that he couldn’t remember, he felt himself being hoisted off of the table, and slid onto what he assumed was a stretcher. It was uncomfortable and felt like it might give at any second, so it had to be a stretcher. He craned his neck, trying to get a look at who might be speaking English. One of the soldiers must have spotted him doing this, so the next thing he knew, there was a bag thrown over his head. It was musty and itchy, which told him, Army canvas. Must be a duffel or a medical field bag.

Hawkeye knew when they were outside, even though he couldn’t see the sun, because he felt the air. He felt the heat. He’d missed it more than anything. The doctor felt himself being heaved onto the back of what he assumed to be the jeep. A lot of assumptions were to be made here. He didn’t have a lot of knowledge to work with. He heard a short exchange of Korean before the jeep revved up and they were off, and if he thought the ambulance ride here was miserable, the jeep ride here was even worse.

In the course of this twenty minute ride, he wished for death more times that when he’d arrived in Korea. He cursed God and anyone else who would listen. Somewhere around the halfway mark, his pain had intensified to a level that would have brought him to his knees had he been standing. He vomited on himself, and partially the jeep, his head spinning circles around his body, or at least it felt that way to him.

The jeep began to slow and he could hear the faint sound of… people? English speaking people. Where were they? Before he could focus in on any of the voices, he was lifted out of the back of the jeep and dropped to the ground, causing him to cry out in pain.

“Your unit is a two minute walk away, Captain. Maybe an hour long crawl if you hurry.” The voice said maliciously. That was the last he heard before the jeep was quickly fired up again, and driven off behind him.

Hawkeye tried to wrangle the bag off of his head and catch a glimpse of the jeep, and it’s driver, but by the time he was able to do so the vehicle was kicking up dust in the distance. Instead he took a good look at himself. He was still covered in his own vomit and blood. He wondered if he had stitches or staples, and if they were going to bust at any movement. But he had to risk it. If the 4077th really was that close, he had to try. If he’d been lied to, then this was it and he had to accept it.

So the rugged Captain began to crawl in the direction he had been told. Every inch was agony and he’d lost his pride. His will. Tears fell against his own desires, and his skull felt like it was on fire. But he had to make it.

_Think of BJ._

“Help!” he cried every so often, hoping someone would hear, someone would come help him the rest of the way. He didn’t know if he could do it on his own. He kept trying, though. He kept crying out periodically- and it took a lot of his energy when he did- and crawling as fast as he could. He didn’t think he could make it to his feet on his own. He crawled and crawled until he saw the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on; the dirty, downtrodden sign that said “4077th M*A*S*H”

This time he gave it all he had to scream, but nothing came out. He was about to lose consciousness if someone didn’t come see him. He stopped on the threshold of the sign, finally dropping to the ground, breathing heavily.

“Captain? Is that you?” came a surprised, breathless voice

Klinger, that was Klinger! Oh that lovable Lebanese had seen him!

“Captain Hunnicut! Captain! Get your butt out here now!” Klinger cried, moving closer to Hawkeye, “Captain, you alright? What can I do? COLONEL POTTER! COLONEL!”

Though Hawkeye thought it odd at first that Klinger would call BJ over their C.O, he realized it wasn’t that unlikely. Colonel Potter may have been the C.O, but BJ was his friend. His best friend. His only one.

He heard boots pounding the ground over to him. The first voice he heard was the sweetest thing to grace his ears in far too long,

“Oh god, Hawk. Hawk, talk to me. It’s BJ, come on, talk to me, what happened?”

Hawkeye tried to open his mouth, but it just wouldn’t obey him. Colonel Potter wasn’t far behind then, coming up right behind BJ, “Holy Hemostat! Son, how did you get here? Where did you come from?”

Hawkeye still wasn’t doing too well on the speaking department, but BJ was saying more than enough for the both of them, “Where’s a damn corpsman when you need one? Or a stretcher? Can I get any damn service around here? Can’t you people see we need help?” he screamed, trying to look Hawkeye over where they were

“Come on, son, we’ll carry him.” Colonel Potter said, trying to calm BJ, “Take him by the shoulders, I’ll help you with-“

“I got it.” BJ snapped, carefully bringing Hawkeye into his arms, shoulder’s first, attempting to have him stand up. Hawkeye’s legs wouldn’t comply and BJ ended up carrying most of the weight. Under normal circumstances Colonel Potter would have ripped BJ a new one for being so disrespectful, but in the given situation, the Colonel just didn’t have the heart to do it. Not now. He’d rip him one later.

BJ carried Hawkeye to pre-op for an assessment, carefully setting him down on one of the cots laying out, Colonel Potter trailing behind- he’d sent Klinger to go call ICORPS and update them on the situation, see what they could do, see if they could find out who’d brought him back, and if they could send Sidney Freedman down, “Hawk? Can you talk to me?”

This time Hawkeye was able to open his mouth, but words were proving difficult, “Dead. All the patients. Dead.” He mumbled

BJ frowned. Those kids… young kids, with so much to live for, gone. He told himself to mourn later. Right now he had to focus on keeping the one survivor talking- and living, “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Strange surgery.. They… something strange… to me…” His words were breaking up now, and his thoughts were scrambling.

Colonel Potter froze stiff. This was WWII all over again. He’d heard of this happening before. The enemy takes soldiers for experimental surgery, or just for medical torture. He’d never known anyone to come back the same. Sometimes they didn’t come back at all.

BJ gnashed his teeth together, “It’s going to be okay, Hawk. It’s going to be okay.” He assured the Captain, and he was going to do all he could to make that the truth. “Hawk, I’ve got to go talk to the Colonel. I’ll be right back.” He said, watching Hawkeye to make sure he understood.

Colonel Potter took the cue and they made their way just outside the door to pre-op. This was going to be a tough one. “What’ya think they did to him?” the Colonel asked

BJ shook his head, “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too keen on talking.”

“We might have to open him up, son. To see what they did and if we can fix it.” The Colonel said. It wasn’t an order or a command. He didn’t have any of those for this. In all his years, this was something he’d never faced before.

“Are you kidding? Look at him. Not only is he a wreck, I don’t know if he’d survive the operating table. No way, Colonel. Court-martial me, call me insubordinate, throw me in the stockade, I don’t care. But I won’t let you open him up.” BJ stood firm, arms over his chest

Colonel Potter put a hand up as if to say stop, “Don’t worry, Hunnicut. I understand where you’re coming from. We’ll wait and see. Get him better first. I’m putting you in charge of that.” He said, though he didn’t expect any protests over the order

BJ nodded silently, “I’ll give it my best. Let me know when Klinger finds out anything.”

“Will do.” The colonel nodded, before returning to his office

BJ was going to make this right. He was going to help his friend. He was going to do everything he could to make him okay again.

If he even could.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with the pivotal plot point. NOW! Please don't turn your nose up just yet. I'm going to be reitterating on something I said in a note in chapter one. That information will be in another note at the bottom of this chapter, as to avoid spoilers for this chapter up here. 
> 
> Thank you for continued reviews! Honestly, kudos/comments speed up my updating.

BJ was adjusting to having Hawkeye back. He’d just adjusted to not having him here. Well, not really, but he’d told himself that he had. Whenever he had a thought, something he might find laughable, he’d learned to keep it to himself. Without Hawkeye, what was the point of telling any jokes? He and Charles got along very well in Hawkeye’s absence. They were strictly professional. BJ did his job, and then went to bed, and made no disturbance.

Charles enjoyed the silence, the peace, for a few days. After a week, even he was beginning to get upset. He didn’t get along with Pierce, he didn’t enjoy the other doctor’s company, and he was forever wishing both of them would leave him alone. But under it all, Charles was human. He had emotions, no matter how deeply he buried them, he did have them. Besides, Winchesters were proud men. Noble men. Brave men. The best men. He would disgrace the name if he sat aside like a weak, simple commoner. Winchesters got things done.

So the Bostonian began yelling at everyone who was a major or higher, from Busan to Tokyo, to get Pierce back. He wouldn’t be caught caring, though. He hid it under the guise of being tired of picking up Pierce’s share of the work, of having more to do because he couldn’t find his way back to the camp. This was for his own interests, not at all for Pierce.

Of course, he wouldn’t have had to do Pierce’s work if it weren’t for Hunnicut scaring off all the surgeons. Every time Potter tried to bring in a replacement, always reminding them it was temporary, BJ would run him off. Insulting his work, picking fights, tearing down his bunk on “accident.” He wouldn’t allow anyone to take Hawkeye’s place here.

Now that Hawkeye was back, it was over. Charles was in Seoul on a 48-hour pass trying to shove his reputation up the ass of someone at ICORP who wasn’t working fast enough at this problem. Klinger had been trying to get through, to tell him to come back and that they needed him, but the lines were down on account of enemy shelling.

Hawkeye had taken a few days to get back to his job. He wondered if this would get him a discharge. If this was what it would take to get him home. Colonel Potter had definitely tried. He didn’t let on around BJ that he was trying to get Hawkeye home. The Colonel thought that might be explosive. Lo’ and behold, though, it didn’t matter. This wouldn’t send him home. Hawkeye was a surgeon and they were needed more than anything. It would take a lot to send him home. That phone call had nearly given Colonel Potter an aneurism.

“What do you mean this can’t send him home?!” The Colonel’s voice raged

“Well, he’s a surgeon, isn’t he? Did he come back with his hands?” A major asked, who was currently sitting behind a cushy desk job in Tokyo

“Yes he came back with his hands! His feet, too! Any other body parts you need accounting for, sonny?” Colonel Potter bellowed

“Colonel, I’m sorry, but we can’t send him home. You know the points needed to go home just went up. He’s got his hands, he’s come back, and he’s a surgeon. If he were a line soldier, we could send him home. But he’s a surgeon and we can use all of those we can get! He stays Colonel. I see here that you’ve sent up for a psychiatrist. Let the head shrink work him over, give him some R&R in Tokyo, and get him back to work. There’s nothing more I can do.”

_Click._

“Cow Cookies! 40 years in this man’s army and you think that’d mean I get what I ask for, dammit!” Potter swore violently, slamming the phone down, “Klinger! Bring me discharge forms!”

Klinger strode into the office, no papers in hand however, a reluctant look on his face, “Colonel, I can’t. You know it. If anyone knows about discharge rules, it’s me.”

“I’m the commanding officer! I should be able to discharge whoever I damn well please!”

“Sir, I know, I believe that too! But he’s not one of the boys that comes through here. He isn’t hurt enough for the Army to let him go.” Klinger said calmly, letting out an exasperated breath.

That ended that, but left the Colonel with a burr under his saddle for a few days. To be told no by a major! Unheard of in WWII!

It looked like Hawkeye was staying. He was secretly glad for this. The only person who could understand him, understand what had happened, was here in Korea. As much as he loved his father, his friends back home, they would never know. They could never begin to know.

He had been on bed rest for a few days while he recovered from mystery surgery. He didn’t speak, not to anyone but BJ, and even then it was broken sentences. BJ couldn’t get much out of him about what had happened, even though he tried. Hawkeye had refused to recover in post-op. He didn’t want to be around people. There were people he hadn’t talked to, or even been around, since he’d been back. Margaret. Klinger, save for when he was found at the sign. Father Mulcahy. He didn’t want to see anyone.

He didn’t go outside much in general. Their tent had been changed for the winter. It was getting colder and the bare netting was no longer enough, so it was changed out to heavy canvas, as was done when it got cold. That was fine. He didn’t want to see the outside world anyway.

BJ had tried discussing with him, or actually, talking at him about opening him up to see what had been done. Hawkeye refused. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t deal with that thought right now. BJ understood, but he knew it would need to be done soon. Eventually. Be done, period.  
  
“Hawk… You have to think about it.”

“No.”

“You know, we have to see what-“

“I said no!”

The conversation typically went the same way every time. BJ approached the subject gingerly, but it never seemed to do him any good. He was always met with violent outbursts and then a silent treatment. He wanted to be angry. But he couldn’t be. Not over this. Not in this situation.

After about five days, Hawkeye was well enough to stand, to walk on his own. He was stronger than he had been, with no help from mess tent food. He could help in triage again, he could operate, but only for so long before it all became too much and he had to retire back to the tent. Every time he had a kid opened up, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was what his insides looked like- are they the same? Are they different? How? Why? What did they do? He had to shake the thought as soon as it came, or it would ruin him.

Sidney Freedman had been there for three days. Hawkeye would walk in and then out of the VIP tent where the psychiatrist was staying, for five or ten minutes at a time. He didn’t say a lot, but Sidney didn’t see this going well. At least, not this soon. He wasn’t going to give up, though.

“Well, doc, what’s the prognosis?” Colonel Potter had asked him, before he left

“He’s closed himself off. He won’t open up to anyone. But he will. He has people here who genuinely care for him, and that can make all the difference. I have to get back to Seoul, but at the first sign of trouble, call for me. I’ll be here faster than you can say ‘Freud.’” Sidney concluded

Potter thought that sounded promising to a degree, and he was going to work at it. After all, he was the C.O, and he had to take care of his chief surgeon.

However, what Sidney had said wasn’t entirely true. Hawkeye hadn’t closed himself off to everyone. He opened up to BJ. Not vocally, but physically. It was the only way the doctor could feel anything. The most intimate form of sharing he could have, with BJ. It was somewhere between sex and _making love_ but it made him feel something, even if he didn’t want to. They snuck it in when Charles was out of the tent, and with the canvas over it, no one could see. Of course, Charles wasn’t gone all the time, and it was because of this they frequented the supply tent.

Charles was a different person these days, as well. He still played his music, but not loudly. He still cooked his disgusting, expensive food over a makeshift hot plate, but not every day. He had a basic level of respect and decency. But he wouldn’t let it show.

One day in particular, about three weeks after Hawkeye had returned, Charles had decided to make kippers and onions over his small, personal frying pan- that no doubt had his initials engraved on it somewhere in fancy, scrawling script- while BJ and Hawkeye played a silent game of cards. Hawkeye had been coming out of his shell more and more as the days and then weeks went by, and one of the first things to come back were their card games.

BJ was dealing their new hand while Charles was sautéing his heart out. Hawkeye, perched on the edge of his cot, scrunched up his nose, eyeing Charles’ meal-in-progress, though he didn’t say anything. He hated when Charles decided to cook in the-

Before he could have another thought, he found himself leaning outside of the tent, holding onto the door for support as whatever the mess tent had served was projectile vomited out and onto the dead shrubbery.

“See what your cooking does?” BJ jabbed at Charles, who simply sneered at him. The taller doctor walked over to his friend, “Hawk, you okay?” he asked, laying one hand between the dark-haired doctor’s shoulders.

“Beej… something’s not r-..right…” Hawkeye stammered, sliding down to his knees, one hand clutching his stomach, the other siding down the side of the tent

A flash of panic raced across BJ’s eyes, “Hawk? Hawk? Talk to me, come on.” He urged, hooking his arms under Hawkeye’s, “Charles, do something for someone else, get me Colonel Potter. Have him meet me in x-ray.”

Charles would have protested. He normally would have fired back about all he had done, all he’d already done for Hawkeye, for both of them, but something told him to refrain himself. Maybe it was the fact that BJ was prone to bursts of violence these days if you provoked him too far and he didn’t want to break his Winchester nose. So he did indeed send for Colonel Potter… by means of Klinger, rather than himself.

BJ carried Hawkeye to x-ray, and was soon met by Colonel Potter, still in his bathrobe and slippers, “What in blazes happened to him?” the Colonel demanded

“I dunno, he threw up and collapsed. Charles is cooking again, but he’s done that before, so I don’t know. He won’t let us open him up, and I’m not doing it against his will. God knows he’s been through… I’m not doing it.” BJ trailed off, shaking his head, “So let’s get some x-rays, blood tests, the works. We can do most of that here, without involving Tokyo.”

Colonel Potter, who was not used to taking orders from a rank lower than him, nodded in agreement, “Sounds good, Hunnicut. Good with you Pierce?” he asked, looking over at the dark-haired doctor. Pierce nodded, though the rest of him was swaying. He felt liable to pass out.

BJ supported him- literally- through most of it, holding him up where he could or leaning him up against something. In less than an hour, they had x-rays and blood tests done. BJ wanted to go over the results with Potter first, instead of blindly upsetting Hawkeye.

“Are these the right ones?”

“Of course, there the only ones we’ve got.”

“But that says… And look at the x-ray, see that? Right there?”

“D’you think that they…?”

“Then how in the blazes did he get that way?”

Hawkeye finally spoke up, “Will someone talk to me, and not about me?”

“Son, there’s no easy way to say this…” Colonel Potter began

“This all looks like, uh… Well, Hawk, it looks like you’re pregnant.” BJ said, voice dropping a little on each word

Hawkeye went pale. He didn’t believe it. He was a goddamn doctor. He knew it wasn’t possible. Couldn’t be, no way in any hell you could imagine. But… What had they done to him?

“According to these x-rays, you have, well, all the gear. We can’t quite see how it’s, well, wired in there, we’d need exploratory surgery for that, which we’re not going to do, don’t worry, son.” Colonel Potter explained, trying to keep Hawkeye calm, “Even with that _equipment_ , I don’t know how you would have gotten, you know.”

BJ didn’t speak up. He knew. If Hawkeye had the ability, he was the one that had done it.

 _It was his_.

Hawkeye knew, too. There was no doubt about that one. He was… It was BJ’s… He didn’t know how to feel. He couldn’t feel at all. Actually, he just felt sick.

If this was really happening, there would be a lot of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was in the tags for the story, also in the note in chapter one; Mpreg. If you didn't come here for that, you're not a fan, or you didn't notice the tag, etc... don't worry. As was said in the chapter one note, when this story is finished, a SECOND VERSION will be posted as an addition to this "series" that will not have mpreg in it. Chapters 1-4 of that version will be the same chapters 1-4 of this story, but after that, the plot will be different. If that strikes your fancy, then just wait a bit longer. It will begin after this story is completed. Sooner if there is demand for it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I took a few days off. My apologies! New chapter to make up for my absence.

Hawkeye had taken the news, initially, not at all. He was a doctor. Eight years in medical school plus residency. He wasn’t always top of his class, no, but he was smart. He learned very well, and very quickly. Especially with his father being a doctor. His knowledge on the subject of medicine was pretty solid. Men couldn’t reproduce. It didn’t happen. Ever. Under normal circumstances, that was.

What had they done to him? His insides were twisted and warped. Potter had said he “had all the equipment” according to the x-ray. Blood tests were even more confirmation he didn’t want. He felt sick. He felt horrible. There were things inside him that didn’t belong there, that he didn’t want there. What could he do? Would the… _fetus_ even survive? He wasn’t made for this. Could it even survive nine months? Could it survive outside of the… _womb?_ He was still very uncomfortable at using these words, even in his head.

He could try to rip everything out himself. There was also a large chance that would kill him within minutes. Operating on oneself isn’t recommended, especially for exploratory surgery. He didn’t think anyone else would do it. He only had two options- Potter or BJ. No one else was going to know. Not if he could help it. Could he even ask them? Potter was old-fashioned, but he had his progressive moments. That was one of the things he liked about the man- he was a mix of traits that made a person human for the present, not stuck too far behind or too far ahead. Hawkeye didn’t know if he even could ask the Colonel.

Was it even his choice? If all of this was real… it was BJ’s child. But BJ already had a child. And a wife. Back in Mill Valley, in the states. That was his life. How could he have a child with Hawkeye? Would BJ want it gone, too? Hawkeye didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he wanted or what he should do or what even could be done at the end of the day. Back in the states, women who aborted pregnancies were treated like criminals. But Hawkeye was a man. No one would even have to know. No one would ever.

“Hawk? You still with us?”

It then occurred to him that he was still sitting in x-ray with BJ and Colonel Potter.

The dark-haired doctor looked up at both of them, feeling very embarrassed and ashamed suddenly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I’m going back to The Swamp. Have Klinger wake me for post-op duty.”

With that, the doctor stood up and walked out, heading back to their shambles of a tent. BJ was about to trail after him, when Colonel Potter grabbed him by the arm, “Hold on, Hunnicut. I need to talk to you.”

“Colonel, I want to go make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.”

“He’ll be fine. Right now I need to talk to you.” Colonel Potter said sternly, eyes fixed on the taller doctor, “While I’m quite sure that they gave him the equipment, someone else must have helped him get to this stage. I doubt they could have carried a pregnancy over.”

BJ stayed silent. It was always in someone’s best interest to not confess before they were accused.

“Now, I know things like that go on in the Army. Back in the states, too. It’s none of my business what two young men want to do, and I don’t give a horse’s patoot. But I never said that. You hear? I just thought you should know that, whoever _helped_ Hawkeye get this way won’t be publicly named. And it wouldn’t go on that person’s record.” The Colonel said, his voice shifting in a way that BJ knew what he was getting at without saying it, “But I do suggest very strongly that the person that helped him get this way help him through it.”

BJ cleared his throat, “Yes sir, Colonel. I think that’s about right. I’ll tell Hawkeye to, uh, pass that information along.” He said, though he was fully aware by this point that the Colonel was looking through him like he was mosquito netting.

The Colonel’s eyes shifted, “Good. I just wanted to make sure there’s a clear understanding of that. That person won’t be in trouble. I’m not into running reputations and sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. Just make sure, ahem, _that person_ knows that.” Potter paused for a moment, looking over BJ to make sure this was sinking in, before his voice dropped to a softer tone- less of a Colonel, more of a father, similar to the voice he used in more casual situations with Radar in the past, “God knows he’ll need you right now. I wanted to make sure you knew that too.”

BJ stiffened; he hadn’t been expecting that last line. “Yes sir.”

The Colonel nodded once, “Good. Dismissed. I’ve got to get some shut-eye myself.”

BJ nodded in reply, holding the door open for the Colonel before exiting himself. The taller doctor quickly walked back to The Swamp, only to find Hawkeye not there. That opened up a pit of worry in his gut. Charles was reading under a lamp with his records playing, oblivious to BJ walking in or running back out.

BJ checked post-op, pre-op, the mess tent, and was about to run out of options when he thought of one more place- the supply tent. He darted across the compound and practically flew through the doors, “Hawk? You in here?” he called out, checking behind each shelf, until he did in fact find the other doctor behind the last row- where they usually met. “Hawkeye? Are you alright?” he asked, approaching cautiously.

Hawkeye remained silent for a few moments, laying on his back on one of the extra cots, “I’m just fine. The war is nice this time of year.” He finally replied.

BJ slid down and sat on the edge of the cot, carefully positioning himself so the cheap piece of shit wouldn’t tip over, “Very funny.” He said, laughing lightly, “Come on, Hawk. Talk to me. How are you doing?” he asked, reaching out for the other doctor hesitantly, but on second thought, pulling his hand back.

“This isn’t real.” Hawkeye replied, shaking his head as he slid up into a sitting position on the cot, propping himself back against the wall of the tent, “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever have kids in my life. I’m still not sure.” He admitted

“What’s that supposed to mean?” BJ asked incredulously, though he tried to control his tone best he could

“Oh, come on, Beej. A kid? With me? Do you really want to go home with that? You have Peg, and Erin, and you don’t need this. Not from me.” Hawkeye fired back, sighing deeply, “I think it would just be best if-“

“If what? If you got rid of it? Look, Hawk, I understand you probably have a million reasons for not wanting to go through with this, and I won’t make you. But don’t make that decision on account of me.” BJ said, sliding closer on the cot by a few inches

Hawkeye sat in silent contemplation for a minute or two. He had wanted kids. Not this way. Not in Korea. What if the war wasn’t over by the time the kid came? Was he supposed to raise it in a war zone? How could he explain that BJ lived on the other side of the country? That he’d only see the kid once a year maybe? Or maybe not at all?

Hawkeye’s lack of response prompted BJ to speak up, “I didn’t plan on this going home with me. You and me, yknow. I thought… But if you want to go through with this… I’ll be there.”

“I won’t ruin your marriage. I won’t break up your family.” Hawkeye stated firmly

BJ was the one who was silent this time. He didn’t want to lie to Peg. He loved Peg more than anything in this world. _He loved Hawkeye, too_. He wasn’t going to be the reason Hawkeye decided one way or the other. He wasn’t going to force Hawkeye to make a choice that could cause him to resent him for the rest of their lives. Or cause Hawkeye regret for the rest of his life.

“You won’t. I’ll handle it. We’ll handle it. I’ll support your decision, Hawk, but I won’t make it for you.” BJ replied. Truth be told, he was torn. Right down the fucking middle. He had Peg and Erin back home… They were his life, his family, his everything. He had Hawkeye and his unborn child in front of him. Hawkeye was his best friend. The only one who would know what this hellhole of a war was like.

“I don’t think I could go through with it, Beej.” Hawkeye finally admitted, letting out a shaky breath. As angry and hurt and confused as he was, when he got down to it, he was quite sure he would not be able to go through with getting rid of it.

BJ didn’t know quite how to feel. Excited. Sad. Both. “Alright, Hawk. I’m here for you.” He said, struggling to keep his voice steady.

 _I’m going to have a baby_ , Hawkeye thought. The thought sucked the air out of his chest.

“Hawk? Still with me?” BJ asked

Hawkeye’s famous crooked smile appeared, “Does this make me ‘mommy’ or ‘daddy?’” he asked jovially.

BJ laughed, “Your call, Hawk. I’m not touching that one.” He said. He could tell, though, that underneath the quips, Hawkeye was still terrified. Truth be told, they both were. Extremely.

They spent the night in the supply tent that night. Hawkeye’s last waking thought before drifting off was,

_I wonder if there’s a requisition form for a crib?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Any discussions about abortion or similar subjects do NOT necessarily reflect my own opinions, but I've tried to fit everything to not only the time period (early 50's) but to the views of the characters. No intention to offend or shame anyone for personal opinions of decisions. It's all for the story.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for rather short chapter, another will be posted tomorrow.

Many people, from lowly corporals to colonels, had made the assessment that Hawkeye could be difficult. In recent weeks, BJ had found this especially true. Hawkeye, who was usually very relaxed and only had one rule- don’t kill people- had set many in place. He’d even given the colonel a list of rules, which had surprised the old cavalryman. On the list was a strict no-no on telling anyone what was going on. Colonel Potter wanted to blast him for telling a superior officer what to do. He didn’t on better judgement. Besides, on deeper inspection, Hawkeye’s demands weren’t that unreasonable for the given situation.

BJ had the same set of rules given to him. No one was to be told anything. No one was to find out. No one was to know anything outside of BJ and Colonel Potter. BJ, however, had to break that rule. Not without asking first, of course. BJ felt that one more person might need to be involved in this ordeal; Sidney Freedman.

“No, absolutely not. I’m not telling Sidney.” Hawkeye said vehemently, shaking his head wildly. He and BJ were alone in the swamp while Charles was on post-op duty for the next few hours. The days were getting even colder, as they were now in mid-November, and the two of them were happy to stay inside- or what passed for ‘indoors’- as long as they could.

“Hawk, I think it might be a good idea. I think telling him might help you come to terms with everything.” BJ said easily, as if he’d been reading the paper aloud.

“Do you think he’ll believe me? Honestly? I’ll end up with Klinger’s section 8!” Hawkeye laughed, pacing around the heater in the middle of the tent, rubbing his gloved hands together.

“I’m sure if the Colonel and I explained everything to him, he might be more prone to accepting the idea.” BJ replied, glancing up at Hawkeye every few seconds. The taller doctor was currently sitting on his own cot, shuffling a deck of worn out cards.

“Yeah, maybe. Look, Beej, it’s my decision and right now, I’m saying I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want anyone to know who doesn’t absolutely have to.” Hawkeye said firmly.

“You know, Hawkeye, in a few months, it won’t be that easy for you to keep a secret.” BJ reminded him gently

Hawkeye dropped down to his own bunk, “Don’t remind me.” He grumbled. He wasn’t sure what to do then. He was remaining adamant about keeping this between as few people- people of his choosing- as possible.

It was BJ’s best estimate, based on when Hawkeye had arrived back and how soon after they had been messing around, that he was around the 8 week mark. There hadn’t been too many physical changes, not noticeable to anyone other than the two of them. BJ was the only one who knew Hawkeye’s body as well as Hawkeye himself did. Other than that, differences had been few. The mess tent food had become twice as unbearable. Liquor was off limits on BJ’s orders. The still remained in place, however, because Hawkeye knew if they took it down, someone might ask why.

He didn’t want people asking questions. That was a main reason Hawkeye valued his privacy more and more lately. Didn’t want a lot of questions from a lot of people. Even of the two people who were in the loop- Hawkeye was only allowing BJ to do any examinations or tests. Truth be told, he felt ashamed around Colonel Potter. Not that he’d let on to that in any way. He still had his pride.

“What exactly are we going to do when you can’t hide it anymore? No one’s going to believe you just gained weight. They know what the food’s like around here.” BJ said, only half joking.

This broke Hawkeye out of his thoughts. “I’m not sure, Beej.”

“How are you going to do triage? Surgery? Without anyone noticing? What about when you can’t stand in OR for 25 hour days anymore?” BJ inquired, questions coming faster and faster. He almost pulled a Frank Burns and said something about how Peg was when she was pregnant with Erin, but on second thought, bit his tongue. He didn’t think that would make things any better.

“I don’t know, alright?!” Hawkeye snapped, rolling over in his bunk, crossing his arms one over the other to try and keep in more heat. He didn’t like thinking too far ahead on any of this. He didn’t have ideas or answers. Not for this. Sometimes he wondered if what he was doing was even the right choice.

Silence hung in the air between them for a few long moments before BJ spoke up, “Sorry, Hawk. We’ll take it one decision at a time.” He said gently, apprehensively.

Hawkeye didn’t disagree. One decision at a time. It was all they could do.

“Call Sidney. I’ll talk to him.”

* * *

Getting a hold of Sidney turned out to be harder than anticipated. The holidays were his busy season- from November to January. It was toughest on the soldiers at the front. To be in this horrible place at the best time of the year, with their families so far away. Sidney had the most suicides and attempted suicides this time of year.

He promised to be at the 4077th by mid-December at the latest, but couldn’t guarantee on how long he could stay until he was called back for a case. That was fine if it was what they could get. Until then, there were lots of wounded. With the Christmas Truce- albeit a temporary one- coming up, both sides were getting in as much fighting as they could first. Wounded came in by land and air, and everybody was on duty.

Thanksgiving had been interrupted by incoming wounded, even. Not that anyone minded; memories of M*A*S*H Thanksgiving past made everyone hesitant, and even then, it was all army surplus. How could it ever be good? They’d worked 15 hours that day before retiring to their bunks.

Charles, back to his usual arrogant self, was very proud of having his Thanksgiving dinner flown in especially for him. He’d declined anything in the mess tent, and, after the long day, was very happy to have his own stateside food, which he was then cooking over his small stove.

“I refuse to eat the same swill as all of you for this holiday. Some things just _can’t_ be sacrificed.” Charles said, sautéing something neither BJ nor Hawkeye recognized.

“You know, I bet you could afford to cater Thanksgiving for this entire camp.” BJ noted, to which Charles sneered at him.

“I could, but why would I? All of you are so unrefined you wouldn’t appreciate it anyway!” he snapped

Hawkeye was tucked into his sleeping bag, fantasizing about Thanksgiving back in Crabapple Cove. His father was always such a rotten cook, especially after his mother had passed and no one was there to save dinner. But it had always been a good day. A great day. BJ, on the other side of the tent, was wondering what Peg and Erin were doing. It would be Erin’s first Thanksgiving. She was probably smearing cranberry sauce all over herself and playing with the food, and he would have given anything to see it.

November soon ended and December began, still no sign of Sidney. It got even colder; unbearably cold, in fact.

“You know, it’s so cold we could probably share a sleeping bag and no one would question it.” BJ noted one morning. He and Hawkeye were in the mess tent, trying to get breakfast after an all-night shift, but after taking a look at the food, thought better of it and settled for coffee.

“I might take you up on that.” Hawkeye said, attempting to choke down bacon. It was something. Maybe. They actually weren’t sure if it was bacon at all.

“Sidney should be here soon.” BJ said, taking a drink of his coffee.

“Yeah, he’s dealing with a kid in Seoul right now. Tried to stop a tank with his body. Said if the army wouldn’t send him home for Christmas, he’d send himself.” Hawkeye exclaimed

BJ frowned, shaking his head, “I don’t envy him his job.”

“I don’t envy us ours.” Hawkeye added, throwing back the last of his coffee and dropping his bacon, “I’m ready to hit the sack. How about you?”

“Lead the way.” BJ said, standing from the table himself and gesturing to the door.

Hawkeye made sure his scarf was tucked into his coat before they took a bracing step into the cold outside, making a run for The Swamp. The heater inside greeted them instantly. Charles was already gone- he went on duty when they came off.

“I love this new schedule- In we come, and out Charles goes, like magic.” Hawkeye laughed, throwing his boots off and sliding into his sleeping bag.

“Klinger did it. For getting him that three-day pass to Seoul. Amazing what you can get with a little bribery.” BJ replied, slipping into his own bunk.

“Do you think we could bribe MacArthur and end the war?” Hawkeye asked jovially, rubbing his hands together to try and create heat.

“If he’s anything like Klinger, we could certainly try.”

Before Hawkeye could think of a clever reply, they were both out, each wishing to be in the sleeping bag of the other.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Sleep in Korea was hard to come by. If the war stopped long enough for the stream of wounded to cease, the staff of M*A*S*H 4077th could try and get some shut-eye before their normal shifts. That was, if they weren’t under unwarranted enemy shelling- or even worse, misdirected shelling from their own side. Hawkeye suggested multiple times that they make the red cross on each tent larger, only this time, use the blood of the wounded to paint them. Maybe the message would sink in then.

Tonight there was no shelling and the wounded had all been taken care of for the time being, but Hawkeye still wasn’t getting much sleep, and what he was getting, the quality suffered. The first time he’d woken up, he’d managed to fall back asleep after a few minutes. The second time, it looked like it might be a bit after noon- he and BJ had come off of a night shift, after all, and gone to bed around seven that morning.

The doctor had been woken up by a sharp, stabbing pain running through his lower abdomen, which as much as he denied it, he knew it wasn’t a good thing. Hawkeye had almost gone to wake BJ when he saw Charles sitting with a book on the other side of the tent. If Charles was here, it meant that he and BJ were due on shift within the next few hours. Margaret was probably covering post-op right about now, he figured.

“Ah, Pierce. Finally awake, I see?” Charles remarked, turning a page in his book and setting the needle on his phonograph

“Come on, Charles, it’s too early for that garbage.” Hawkeye grumbled, tossing one of his pillows at the other doctor

Charles looked aghast, “Garbage?! This is Vivaldi, Pierce! A masterpiece!”

“If you don’t turn it off, it’ll be in master-pieces.” Hawkeye snapped, pulling blankets up around his shoulders.

“Pierce, if you lay so much as one finger on my record player I’ll have you hanged.” Charles hissed menacingly, turning away from Hawkeye and back to his book.

“Yeah yeah.” Hawkeye grumbled, looking over to see BJ’s bunk was empty. He was about to ask Charles if he knew where BJ had gone, but changed his mind. He threw his legs over the side of the cot and laced up his boots before exiting the tent in search of BJ.

He hadn’t gotten more than halfway across the compound before the same pain that had woken him struck him again, much harder that the first time. That, combined with the fact that it caught him off guard, almost made him drop to his knees right there in the middle of camp. Rather than draw attention, he kept looking for BJ. Before he could get any farther in his search, he heard the static-filled voice reverberate through all the speakers in camp,

“Attention all personnel! Incoming wounded! Ambulances in the compound, choppers on the pad!”

“Well, looks like my shift starts early.” Hawkeye muttered to himself, darting off to the camp’s makeshift ambulance bay. It was here he ended up running smack into BJ.

“Hey, Hawk, you’re awake. Can you help?” BJ asked, helping one of the corpsman unload the bus

“Of course I can help. I live to help. My draft board loves me.” Hawkeye replied sarcastically, checking over one of the soldiers with a chest injury, “Get this one sedated, 10 units of whole blood, stat!” he called out

They had a total of 11 injured this round, and from what the driver said, there were just as many or more either waiting at the 121st or headed to the 8063rd with even more at battalion aide stations.

“Let me guess, hill 403?” Colonel Potter grumbled as the surgical team scrubbed up, shaking his head

“Of course, everyone wants it. Such a great neighborhood. Curb appeal is fantastic.” BJ laughed as a nurse slid a gown over his arms.

The OR was bustling that day. With the added cold, they were trying to get patients in and out as fast as they could. Hawkeye had the chest case from the bus, BJ had a bowel with a shrapnel infection, Colonel Potter was taking care of a kid with half a shell in his gut, and Charles was trying to save a leg.

“Closing. Klinger, bring me a new one!” Pierce called, closing off with some 3-0 silk.

Klinger walked in, nurse’s hat pinned to his hair but otherwise GI, and began to roll Hawkeye’s patient away, “Bring ya a new one after this, captain.” He said, to which Hawkeye nodded.

Hawkeye was trying to get through his work as fast as he could simply because he wanted to get back to his tent. Pain that had once been intermittent was now constant and more noticeable. The doctor leaned over his operating table, exhaling deeply, “I’m going to go check on who we have waiting.” He said, stripping his gloves off and tossing them in the hazardous disposal before exiting to pre-op, which was in fact very crowded for the size of the area, before moving to the scrub room, which was, thankfully, empty.

BJ knew Hawkeye didn’t leave in the middle of surgery. Not unless he absolutely had to, even when he really wanted to. “Kellye, close for me, will you?” he asked, shooting a quick glance at the Colonel, “I’ll be right back.” To which the Colonel nodded, “Hurry, we need all the help we can get.”

BJ was out the door before Charles could sneer something about having to pick up on everyone else’s work. The taller doctor found his friend slumped back on a bench in the scrub room, one hand gripping the side and the other resting on his lower stomach.

“Hawk? You alright?” BJ asked, rushing over to the other, looking him up and down to try and find any obvious problems.

“Something hurts, Beej.” Hawkeye replied, gnawing on the inside of his cheek

“Where? When did it start? What does it feel like?” BJ asked; all routine questions when a patient complains of pain. Except he was more worried this time.

“Some time this morning, after we sacked out. Feels like my insides are full of shrapnel. Right here.” Hawkeye answered, though out of order, taking BJ’s hand and moving it where his had previously been.

Hawkeye must have been in serious pain to do that, BJ thought. Lately he’d been extremely particular about how and where BJ was allowed to touch him. BJ thought it to be a combination of coming back from being kidnapped and the current situation, and he didn’t joke about it like instinct told him to. He ran his hand over Hawkeye’s stomach, over the small bump making itself known to the world more and more as the weeks passed, “Could be a number of things, Hawk.”

“Or it could be the big thing.” Hawkeye added. Pain was never a good sign, especially not this early. He knew that. He was at a disadvantage, though. It’d be much harder to know if he’d miscarried or not.

“Don’t think like that, Hawkeye. It might just be… adjustment.”

“Adjustment?” Hawkeye demanded, “What do you mean ‘adjustment?’”

“Look at it this way, Hawk. Your body isn’t made to adapt to these changes. You really don’t have any room internally for it. My guess would be, your body’s trying to make room for something it shouldn’t have to. That’s going to hurt.” BJ explained, watching the other to see if something was going to break off

“Yeah, alright, I see your point.” Hawkeye said, waving his hand dismissively. It didn’t make him less worried. It did, however, reaffirm his worries that maybe he’d made the wrong decision here.

“Look, I’ll talk to Potter, you go back to Swamp. I’ll meet you there as soon as we’re done in surgery.”

“Oh, no way. There’s too much work to do for me to be off duty. I’m coming back.” Hawkeye protested, standing and walking to the sink, beginning the scrubbing process again

BJ chewed his lip, “Fine, but if you need to leave again, you’re staying out.”

“Then I just won’t leave.” Hawkeye said, in the tone he usually used with visiting Generals who gave him backwards orders

They were back in OR just in time as Klinger and two other corpsmen were bringing in patients, “About time! We’re backed up in the hallway!” he said

Each doctor was getting gloves from a nurse before settling to a table, “I knew it, this place falls apart the minute we leave!” Hawkeye remarked, back to his normal jocular behavior.

Klinger wasn’t gone five minutes before he came back in, this time with someone else, a man in a South Korean uniform holding a mask over his face, “Colonel Potter, a Captain Chun here to see you. He said it was an emergency.”

“Sorry for the intrusion, Colonel. It seems I always come at a bad time. My commander told me you had wounded and sent me here to observe your surgery. We always seem to be behind and your unit is the best to learn from.” The Captain spoke

“No problem, Captain. Especially after you played translator for us last time you were here. Don’t know what we would have done without you.” Colonel Potter said, gesturing to a nurse, “Get scrubbed up and a nurse will get you a gown.”

Hawkeye froze, a pair of hemostats slipping through his fingers and clanking to the floor. He knew that voice. He’d heard it before, and now he recognized it. It was the voice he’d heard when he was captured and couldn’t recognize. Now it made sense, how the voice knew who he was and what unit he was with. Hawkeye couldn’t speak. He was between angry and upset and neither were working for him. He didn’t pay any attention to Captain Chun as he left. He didn’t notice when he came back in. He didn’t notice the captain until he was next to Hawkeye.

“Captain Pierce, do you mind if I observe your table?”


	9. Chapter 9

Hawkeye had a sharp, quick wit. He always had. In fact, he’d been kicked out of class many times for it. Grade school teachers expected it, however, the dean of admissions at his Alma Mater didn’t appreciate it. Right now that wit was buried down so deep he didn’t think he’d ever find it again.

“Get away from me.” He said, voice as sharp as ice and just as cold.

Captain Chun, fully dressed in surgical gear now, simply pulled up a chair next to Hawkeye’s table, “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate the chance to learn new surgical technique.”

Hawkeye very carefully considered shoving the pointed end of his scalpel in the man’s neck. Maybe shoving a pair of hemostats through his eyes. He had to remind himself that it wouldn’t make any difference. Two wrongs didn’t make a right. He wasn’t that kind of person. He pulled pranks and made jokes, but he didn’t cause injuries he would later have to sew up. Besides, they also had a backlog of patients in pre-op waiting for tables and he couldn’t leave them a surgeon short. Those kids depended on all of them to live and he wouldn’t cost other lives because of what had happened in his own.

They were in surgery for close to ten hours, and as the clock ticked away, Hawkeye’s nerves frayed a bit more. He was silent for most of the time, which evidently warranted a comment from Charles.

“Do you hear that? Silence. Pierce must have sutured his mouth shut on accident!” Charles guffawed, proud to have made the first crack.

Hawkeye didn’t respond. He didn’t say anything. He focused very intently on his work, trying to work as fast as he possibly could without making any mistakes. Captain Chun kept making small comments he disregarded, mostly about his “impressive technique” and how “this would better his own surgical skills.” Hawkeye shuddered at the thought of what that might mean for anyone else.

As soon as the last patient was cleared, Hawkeye was the first one out of the OR and the first one in the scrub room, shedding his surgical gear as quickly as he could. Captain Chun followed closely behind him, matching him step for step.

“Very impressive, captain. I see you are doing well. I heard you took a trip recently. How are you feeling?”

There was that voice again. The voice that had told him to crawl back to camp. It made bile rise in Hawkeye’s throat. He swung around, fist clenched so hard his knuckles were snow white, “You have a lot of nerve showing up like that, when I’m in surgery. Get out. Get out now.” Hawkeye growled menacingly, a tone of voice he’d never heard come out of his mouth.

BJ and Colonel Potter walked in not seconds later, Charles in tow complaining loudly about “primitive surgical conditions” and anything else that wasn’t up to his standards. Hawkeye barely even noticed them come in when he lunged for Captain Chun, landing one punch so violently that he probably shattered the man’s nose.

“Hawkeye!” BJ cried, pulling his friend off of the other captain, actively attempting to restrain him from further aggressive interaction.

“What in blazes is going on here?!” Colonel Potter bellowed

“He’s a liar! He’s a North Korean! He was there!” Hawkeye screamed, trying with all his might to break free of BJ’s hold and get maybe one more swing in

“What are you talking about, Pierce? He was where?! How do you know he’s a North Korean?!” Colonel Potter demanded, face turning an unbecoming shade of puce

“He was the one who dropped me off! Told me to crawl back to camp! He was the one who told them what to do to me! I never saw his face, but now, oh, now, I recognize his voice. He’s been here before! He knew me!” Hawkeye’s voice was losing its power near the end, and his chest felt as if it would crack at the sternum and cave in.

BJ’s face paled. He kept his arms around Hawkeye’s shoulders to hold him back, keep him from doing any more damage. He believed Hawkeye. He never knew Hawkeye to get upset without a reason, especially not this upset. He wanted to kill Captain Chun himself now. Drop his body in the cesspool behind the mess tent.

“Well, Chun, what do you have to say to those accusations?” Colonel Potter asked, voice calm and cold. The way he talked when he was angry, but he had to act like the colonel he was. It wasn’t a kind voice, or a forgiving one. It was a mask for fury boiling beneath the surface.

“Obviously he’s mistaken me for someone else. You Americans think we all look alike! He’s been through an ordeal from what I hear. He’s confused.” Captain Chun replied easily, shrugging.

Colonel Potter raised a hand, as he did when he was going to make a point, “See, Pierce didn’t say he knew your face. He said he knew your voice. That’s a little harder to mistake, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”

“Colonel, he’s been through a lot. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” Chun replied, voice not wavering once

“You keep saying that, son. How would you know? We’ve only called ICORP about the situation. Unless you’re telling me that the U.S Army leaks information to allied troops for no reason? The most you should know, if anything, was to look out for some North Koreans hijacking hospitals. Now, would you like some extra time to work on a better story?” Colonel Potter spat

“You can check with my commander. I am not North Korean.” Chun said. BJ noticed he was beginning to sweat just a bit.

“Why should I believe him? Why should he believe you! As if North Korea has never infiltrated troops before! We stick up for our own around here, sonny. Don’t think you’re winning any points with me! KLINGER! Go get me the MPs! Hunnicut, take Pierce back to the swamp. I’ll have Klinger fetch you if we need you. Winchester! I trust you keep a good military lawyer on retainer. Get me his information now!” Potter ordered

Winchester, who had been standing silently in shock behind them all until now, turned tail and walked through the curtain separating post from pre op, happy to leave the room. A North Korean! Who had been visiting their camp! Who had watched him in surgery! Who knows what could have happened!

Klinger entered through the curtain that separated OR and the scrub room from the office, directly followed by two large men with MP armbands, “MPs, sir!”

BJ wasn’t going to stick around with Hawkeye any longer to watch the ordeal. Hawkeye had since stopped kicking and fighting his way away from BJ and had gone numb. This made it easier for the taller doctor to walk him back to the swamp. Neither noticed the freezing wind outside, nor the transition to sparse heat in the tent. BJ set Hawkeye down on his bunk and was about to offer him a drink and then thought better of it, before sitting down next to him.

“Hawk? You alright?” BJ asked quietly, watching the other carefully

“I’m going to have to testify.” Hawkeye replied, standing from the cot and beginning to pace around the tent, through the limited walking space around the heater in the center, “Potter told Charles to get him a lawyer. That means he’s going to press charges and it’ll go to trial. What am I supposed to say? What do I _have_ to say? What if Chun fesses up and tells them what they did? What if…” Hawkeye couldn’t finish his sentences after that. His hand dropped to rest over his stomach as he made one last circle before dropping back down on the bunk next to BJ.

BJ wrapped an arm around Hawkeye, pulling him closer, his own hand resting on top of Hawkeye’s, “Try to calm down, stress isn’t what you need right now. Look, if Chun says anything, then he’s admitting he’s guilty and they’ll send him away. You don’t have to say anything. Potter and I are the only ones with your information. We’ll tell them that we were able to undo whatever Chun did when you got back. Even better if he doesn’t say anything, we don’t have to give specifics. I’ll bet everything I have that Klinger can get us some fake x-rays.”

Hawkeye appreciated the reassuring words, but he was still extremely worried about the possibility of testifying. He didn’t want to do it. He wanted to forget it. He was too goddamn ashamed to tell even BJ how he felt, what had happened, let alone a group of people at a trial. Maybe Sidney could speak for him? He was a psychiatrist and had jurisdiction to speak on behalf of someone else in court. Of course, that might make him appear to be mentally unstable, and that might send him home. He couldn’t go home. Not now. He couldn’t have this baby back in Crabapple Cove. He wouldn’t be able to get an abortion there, either. It looked like he’d have to testify.

How much of the truth would be in it was up for debate. He most certainly didn’t want all the details spoken.

“Try not to worry, Hawk. It’ll be taken care of.” BJ said, his voice reaching through Hawkeye’s thoughts.

That’s what Hawkeye was relying on. He didn’t have anything else.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello. I’m back, after a long pause. I apologize for not updating for a couple months; I’ve had a lot going on with my life recently. An update for Version 2 of this story will be coming soon, most assuredly. Thank you for your patience.

After the events of the OR the previous night, Colonel Potter put a rush call into Sidney Freedman. He tried to pull as much muscle as he could without overdoing it. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age.

“Sidney, we need you down here right away. I know you’re busy this time of year, but it’s an emergency.” Colonel Potter expressed, holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he scrawled his John Hancock all over the morning’s stack of papers.

Christmas was but a few days away. It was Sidney’s worst time. It was everyone’s worst time, so far away from their families. Sidney also knew that Colonel Potter wouldn’t ask like this if it wasn’t a severe problem. “Alright, Colonel. Let me call in a replacement for frontline duty, I’ll be there by noon. Next jeep out of Tokyo.”

“Thank you, Major.” Colonel Potter dropped the phone back in its worn leather cradle and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d sent Captain Chun away on charges, and now he was bringing Sidney Freedman in. Things were working, for the time being. Getting Captain Chun away had been surprisingly easy. When pressing charges with the severity of the ones Chun was slapped with, it was rather simple to get the Judge Advocate General’s office involved. The Captain was in holding now.

Across the camp, Hawkeye was laying on his bunk, bundled up under copious layers, running thousands of scenarios through his head. Colonel Potter had given him the day off after yesterday, and BJ was covering for him in Post-Op. No fresh wounded today. But it was still early.

Hawkeye couldn’t stop thinking. What was going to happen? This was definitely going to trial. That was unavoidable at this point. How much would Chun say about what they had done to Hawkeye? Would he stay silent to save himself, or would he air it all just to humiliate and degrade Hawkeye? If he did air it all, how would that affect him? Would they ask to see a medical exam? Would they ask for x-rays? BJ said Klinger could easily scrounge up some fake ones, no questions asked, but what if the J.A.G wanted their own taken? Would this be easier if he just… _got rid of it?_

He couldn’t think like that. He didn’t want to. But should he have? Was he doing the right thing? He didn’t know. He had no idea what was the right thing anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, not only for himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it and tell BJ.

_“I don’t want your child.”_

He couldn’t do that to BJ. He couldn’t push the words past his lips. He didn’t want to. Hell, it wasn’t even true! Hawkeye couldn’t say this either, but he _did_ want BJ’s child. Now that it was a possibility… he did. He loved BJ, in all sorts of ways. Maybe he wasn’t that good at saying it, but he did. He couldn’t bring himself to… get rid of a child. Let alone one that was BJ’s.

He wanted this child. He truly did. He loved it already. Even though there were still parts of him screaming at him. That it’s wrong, it’s selfish! How this was going to destroy BJ’s family, how it was going to make his life harder. What if the trial resulted in a discharge? Then he was really screwed. He could not, under any circumstances, have this child alone in Crabapple Cove. Truly alone. His father couldn’t even know. An abortion was even more out of the question. That would be absolutely impossible at home. Until now, he’d wanted nothing more than to go home. Now he needed to stay. He needed to stay, and be with BJ, or he wasn’t going to make it through this.

BJ promised he was going to make it work. That Hawkeye wouldn’t be ripping him from Peg and Erin, as much as Hawkeye thought he would be. He trusted BJ, with his life, but that didn’t stop the uncertainty from creeping in like a dark fog, just before a hurricane. There were so many ways this could go. What if the child didn’t even _survive?_ His body wasn’t made to bear children. What if the child was stillborn, or severely malnourished, or missing vital organs, because he couldn’t care for it internally? What if he miscarried at any point? What if he already had? There would be no way to tell except to wait.

Everything swirling around in his head made it feel like his skull was going to shatter at any moment. He didn’t know what to do or how to handle any of it. His eyes burned as hot tears trickled down, dark blotches of nothingness forming in his vision. He bit down on his tongue to keep from sobbing, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. _This is where I die,_ he thought. Not on the operating table in that crappy hostage camp, but here, in his bunk.

Before he knew what was happening, someone was touching him. Someone had their arms around his shoulders and was speaking to him. He couldn’t make out the words over the high pitched ringing in his ears. Everything else was drowning out.

“… -keye, talk to me. Come on. It’s BJ. Everything’s okay. You’re okay.” BJ said, his own voice shaking ever so slightly as he tried to hold Hawkeye steady. Hawkeye leaned on the other man wordlessly, gasping for breath that had been ripped from his lungs. Slowly but surely, he began to slow down, his muscles relaxing, though his breath remained hitched above where it should have been, tears still occasionally rolling down his flushed cheeks.

It was then that the door to The Swamp opened, and in popped Sidney Freedman, whose greeting smile quickly flipped when he saw Hawkeye, “What happened here?” he asked, voice as calm as ever. No one had ever heard Sidney Freedman yell. Maybe he didn’t even know how.

When it was apparent that Hawkeye wasn’t much in the way of speaking, BJ piped up, “I got off duty in post-op and came back here. When I walked in he was having a full blown panic attack.”

Sidney quickly shut the door behind him- mostly because it was freezing outside- and took a seat on one of the unoccupied bunks. “I see I have impeccable timing.” He noted, smile reappearing.

They sat in silence for a few moments longer while Hawkeye calmed down. BJ didn’t lighten his grip once. He actually didn’t care how it looked to Sidney. Not now, especially. He couldn’t leave Hawkeye to do this alone. When Hawkeye seemed to be breathing regularly, Sidney spoke up again.

“Do you want to tell me what brought this on?” he asked, watching Hawkeye observantly.

“Things. I was thinking of things.” Hawkeye mumbled, shaking his head as if the words had become bugs on his skin.

“What kind of things?” Sidney asked, pushing further. Sidney was kind and compassionate, but he didn’t often hold back.

BJ knew. He knew as soon as Hawkeye gave him that look. The look that conveyed a thousand words unspoken. “I said I’d talk to him. I didn’t say I’d be the one to tell him. You do it, Beej.” Hawkeye said pleadingly. His pride had never been lower, and it was already modest to begin with.

“Tell me what?” Sidney asked, voice not raising one octave. Colonel Potter had given him a brief summary on the phone- one of the men involved with Hawkeye’s kidnapping and torture had showed up in OR, there was a fight, and he needed to come immediately.

BJ paused a moment, just to make sure Charles wasn’t about to walk in spontaneously, then looked at the major sitting across from them, “Sidney, there’s no easy way to tell you this… You’re going to have to keep an open mind here. Hawkeye can’t say it, and it’s not exactly easy for me.”

Sidney’s lips quirked upwards, “What? Are you breaking up with me? Let me guess, it’s not me, it’s you?” he asked, chuckling

BJ wanted to laugh. Ordinarily he would have. But he couldn’t now, not today. So he began talking. He took frequent long pauses between sentences, watching Sidney’s face for any sort of odd reaction, but that look never came. Maybe Sidney automatically believed him. Maybe they taught you not to show emotion in psychiatry school.

Sidney sat silently, patiently, listening. He was vaguely reminded of the time Klinger pretended to be pregnant while a General was visiting. But he could tell, this wasn’t like one of Klinger’s stunts. This was different.

Once BJ was done speaking, and Hawkeye had released not a word, they waited for Sidney to say something. Anything. Maybe they’d just screwed themselves by opening up.

“You’ve done tests, I assume? To confirm this?” Sidney asked, still in calm disposition.

“An x-ray at first, blood tests later. We’re sure.” Hawkeye finally said, voice gaining strength now

Sidney didn’t ask who the father was. He didn’t think it likely that it was one of the North Korean captors. He had a pretty good idea of who it was. After all, analysis was his job. He wasn’t going to say anything. Just like Colonel Potter had danced around the subject. He just knew. The way they interacted… the words they exchanged, the small touches shared apprehensively in the company of others. The way BJ had begun to hold Hawkeye. He just knew.

“Well then. Should I offer my congratulations or condolences?” Sidney asked

BJ knew what that meant. It was a nice way of asking a harsh question. “He’s keeping it, Sidney.”

Hearing it brought back all of Hawkeye’s insecurities from before. He could feel his lungs closing off and his eyes burning. He tried quickly to regain his composure but it was slipping from him. BJ tightened his grip on the other man quickly, as if to catch him before falling.

Sidney made a mental note to meet with Klinger and Colonel Potter later to strategize for an upcoming trial. He’d been to a few Army trials, but never played a big role. He didn’t know who he would be here. But he was competent. The psychiatrist knew he could handle it. He was confident.

Unlike Hawkeye, who was unraveling before his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anybody reading this anymore? Life got busy and I took a break that, honestly, wasn't supposed to last this long. Version 2 of this really needs an update the most, and I’ll have one up today after this. It’d mean a lot to me to get some feedback on this one. Apologies once more for the extended vacation.

Sidney Freedman was a man of understanding, as well as reason. Of empathy and sympathy, but also of logic. This is why he believed Hawkeye and BJ… to an extent. Of course he trusted their word, as he had many times, and they had never let him down. However, with something like this being said, he needed to confirm another way. He’d asked for a repeat of the blood tests and x-rays that BJ had said they did earlier. Colonel Potter gave him the green light to do whatever he needed to help.

At first, Hawkeye was 100% resistant. Sidney assured the doctor that this was purely required, for the trial, though they would be kept from evidence and from the file. Simply to help him build a case on his own. To see where he could go with this safely. After much coaxing, he agreed. Provided BJ stay in the room and no one else come in. In that case, Sidney watched the door, as well as BJ, while everything was redone.

Sidney was only mildly surprised to see that the tests and the x-rays came back just as BJ had said they would. Not much shook Sidney, and he was glad for it, or his job was going to be the end of him. Of course, when you decide to play god, things like this happen. The notion of god was interesting to him, in an academic kind of way. The notion of Hawkeye having a baby was interesting to him, in an academic kind of way.

Now that the psychiatrist knew that Hawkeye and BJ weren’t pulling his leg, and that Hawkeye hadn’t gone completely off, he was left to figure out what to do in the trial. It was Christmas Eve and the two captains were in the mess tent trying to choke down whatever the cook was serving. Sidney was going to join them soon, but he had decided to have a quick chat with the Colonel first.

Sitting in the Colonel’s office, pen and pad in hand, Sidney was strategizing for their plan of attack.

“We obviously can’t present his actual x-rays in court.” Sidney said, opening up a list of scenarios they needed to prepare for.

“Of course we can’t.” Colonel Potter said, shaking his head. He really missed Mildred this time of year, on top of everything else he was dealing with. “I’ll slip Klinger a pass to Tokyo in exchange for some forgeries.”

“Why forgeries? Why not just take some of BJ? Or anyone else?” Sidney mused

“They’re going to be expecting to see some with lots of damage. Klinger can pull some from a kid with lots of injuries. No one there will be able to know.” Potter explained, tipping a bottle over into a glass, rich amber liquid flowing forth.

Sidney simply nodded and jotted a few notes down, “And if the J.A.G wants their own taken?”

Colonel Potter sighed and leaned back in his creaky chair, “That’s a tough one.” He remarked, silent for a few long moments before replying, “I’ll tell you what. I don’t know what we’re going to do. I’ll leave it with Klinger, and tell him to work something out. In fact, when I let him do that, it’ll be best if we don’t know what he does.”

Sidney laughed, “That’s true. Do you really think Klinger can handle all of this? Without knowing what he’s really doing?”

“That’s when Klinger works best. Besides, the less he knows, the better in this case.” Potter added, holding his glass up as if to toast the idea, before knocking it back completely.

“I can’t disagree with you there.” Sidney agreed, standing from his seat, “What do you say we put this off until after Christmas? Enjoy the truce while we can?” he suggested.

“Around here, the truce means little to nothing. But I’ll damn sure appreciate it while it does.” Potter nodded, holding the door for Sidney and himself as they entered the freezing compound.

The two quickly skidded across the cold, muddy compound and into the mess tent, relieved when the heat greeted them at the door. The tent was packed, mostly for the heat. The pair hoped that by the time they made it through the line, a table would clear for them. No such luck, as there they were, holding two trays of slop with nowhere to sit and complain about it. That was, before Father Mulcahy called them over.

“Colonel! Sidney! There’s some room here if you want to squeeze in!” called the Chaplain’s voice.

The Colonel slid in next to the Father, and Sidney slid in on the other side next to BJ and across from Margaret. Charles was nowhere to be seen, as usual. Neither was Hawkeye.

“So good to see you again, Sidney!” Father Mulcahy chimed cheerfully. It seemed nothing, not even the weather, would break him.

“Nice to see you again, too, Father.” Sidney replied, smiling in acknowledgement. “How’s business been?” he joked. The holidays were a rush hour for everyone; the chaplain included.

“I can’t complain.” The chaplain sighed, shaking his head, “It’s horrible to see so many young men ripped from their families this time of year.”

BJ didn’t say a word, but he understood. He missed Peg and Erin so much it hurt. He’d sent some gifts for the both of them back, but still, it was nothing if he couldn’t give them to them in person. He didn’t want to think about it so much. It was one more thing on his mind, one more weight dragging him to the ground.

“I haven’t seen Hawkeye anywhere.” Sidney remarked, a bit quieter, this time directed at BJ.

The captain shook out of his thoughts, “He didn’t feel like coming to dinner tonight.” Was all he said, taking a drink out of his cold-by-now coffee.

“I haven’t seen him around much since… he got back.” Margaret added delicately. “Only in OR. He hasn’t even tried to molest my nurses. Of course, I can’t say I’m complaining there.”

Colonel Potter gave her a brief look, one that everyone recognized, that silently said “watch what you say now.” She nodded in silent acknowledgement.

“He’ll be here tomorrow, though, won’t he?” Father Mulcahy asked, looking at BJ now, “We’re having the Christmas party for the local orphans.”

“I’m sure he will be.” BJ lied. In truth, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what Hawkeye wanted to do. He was lucky if he could get him out and to the shower once a day. He felt like he had to corral Hawkeye into anything, save for surgery. Hawkeye hadn’t forgotten his duties. He was just particularly disinterested in being social today. Retaking tests with Sidney this morning had agitated him more than BJ had previously anticipated.

He really couldn’t be blamed. BJ didn’t understand quite how he felt. How could he? Hawkeye had been violated in one of the worst ways, in BJ’s opinion. It was definitely up there on the list, with other things that were just as inhumane and wrong.

The captain pushed all his garbage onto his tray and slid back and off of the bench, “I’m going to head back. See you in the morning.” He said, throwing out a temporary smile. Between everything going on with Hawkeye and missing Peg and Erin… BJ wasn’t feeling too social himself.

They all gave goonights and goodbyes, Father Mulcahy’s the most enthusiastic, as he walked away. BJ dumped his tray and stuffed his hands into his jacket, heading back to the swamp. He found Charles already asleep, stuffed in expensive blankets. Hawkeye was bundled up in his own army-issue sleeping bag, back to the door and facing BJ’s cot.

Without a word, BJ slipped between his own covers, and tried as quickly as he could to doze off. When they all woke up, it would be Christmas.

What kind of Christmas, was still up for debate.  


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have gone a bit off on this one. Regardless, here we go. Feedback is, as always, very much appreciated.

When BJ awoke on Christmas morning, the cold air greeted him like a thin sheet of ice. Breathing in caused his throat and nostrils to freeze on contact as if to tell him that the inside of him had to be just as cold as the outside. There was barely any noticeable heat to speak of, which told him that the space heater (or stove, depending on the season) was on the fritz again. He’d have to get Hawkeye to look at it- he was always able to fix it.

Speaking of Hawkeye, the doctor rolled over to face his friend’s cot before sitting up. It appeared Hawkeye had been awake long before he had, which made him question what time it was. The other doctor was wrapped in many blankets with a pen and pad in hand, though how he could write with socks on his hands was a mystery.

“Merry Christmas.” BJ mumbled hazily, wiping the sleep out of his eyes, “How long have you been up? It’s barely dawn.”

Hawkeye turned to face his friend, a brief glint of a smile appearing, “Merry Christmas, Beej. I got up a couple hours ago. Charles left about twenty minutes ago, something about sending a telegram to his sister for Christmas.”  

BJ wrapped the blankets from his cot tightly around his shoulders, “You never get up early.” He yawned, eyeing the other doctor suspiciously, “You sleep alright?”

“Yeah, fine.” Hawkeye replied, even though ‘fine’ was a bit of a stretch. Nightmares that yanked him from reality and surging pain that seemed to wake him up on the hour. He slept fine. “I thought I’d write my dad before going for coffee.”

BJ wasn’t an idiot. He knew Hawkeye wasn’t telling him everything. What he wasn’t telling Hawkeye was that he’d woken up several times last night and many nights before then. Almost every night since Hawkeye had come back, in fact, and found Hawkeye talking in his sleep. Angry. Sad. Desperate. Crying. Screaming. He was suddenly very glad Charles wore earplugs to sleep.

“That’s good. Glad you’re still here, actually, because the heater needs fixing.” BJ said, moving off topic- though he would be coming back later.

“Again? I’ll get it. I’m done here anyway.” Hawkeye said, stuffing his letter into an envelope. Hopefully this would get there by Easter. He’d sent an actual Christmas card to his father at Halloween, and that was pushing it.

The dark-haired surgeon wrapped an olive drab blanket around himself before standing to fix the heater. What he wouldn’t give for it to not break down every fifteen minutes. After a couple minutes of banging and rearranging, the pilot light came back on inside and heat began to trickle into the air.

“Voila. Fixed.” Hawkeye exclaimed, much like a five year old with a new drawing.

“Finally. Maybe it can warm up to freezing in here now.” BJ laughed, scooting to the end of his cot and rubbing his gloved hands together over the heater.

“Wouldn’t that be an improvement?” Hawkeye laughed. The doctor returned to his bunk and reached underneath, pulling out a rather worn looking parcel wrapped in mucky brown paper, and tossed it to BJ. “Sorry for how it looks. It came through Army mail.”

BJ looked up just in time to catch the box, contents rattling ominously, “Thanks, Hawkeye. I think.” He laughed, pulling the string off of the box and then the paper. He opened it to find a matching set of envelopes and paper, as well as several different sheets of Japanese stamps.

“A stationary set I picked up last time I was in Tokyo on R&R. I thought you might like it to write home with.” Hawkeye said, trying to fill what was becoming an awkward silence.

Writing home. It wasn’t something BJ did as much as he used to, but that didn’t stop the influx of letters he received from Peg. It seemed he was losing the ability to write home like he used to. That didn’t stop Hawkeye from encouraging him, though. That had been Hawkeye from the start. _“I won’t get in the way. I won’t ruin this for you.”_ Was what he had always said. It was still what he was saying, with a box of stationary.

“Yeah, this is great, Hawk. Thanks.” BJ smiled, flipping through the stamps, “I think I’ll use the ones with the clothed Geishas first.” He laughed. The Captain slipped the stamps back into the ragged gift box before standing from his own bunk, reaching below, and sliding out a decently sized box that was narrower than it was long. “Since we’re doing gift exchanges.” He said, sliding the package over to Hawkeye

Hawkeye eyed it apprehensively for a moment, and when nothing came to mind as to what it could possibly be, he grabbed where the ends of wrapping met and ripped it forward. Barely any of the paper removed, but enough to see what it was. He didn’t unwrap anymore.

“A… A crib?” Hawkeye asked, looking up at his friend, suddenly expressionless.

BJ cleared his throat “Well, uh… You were going to need one eventually. I tracked one down. Without Klinger, I might add. Though it might have been easier with him, to tell you the truth.” He said, laughing nervously

Hawkeye was still in shock. A crib. What the hell was he going to do? Set it up in The Swamp? With Charles living with them, nonetheless? They were already stepping on each other’s toes. How was he supposed to get it home? If he ever made it home, he thought. A crib in a goddamn Army camp. If that wasn’t cruel irony, he didn’t know what was.

“I’ll set it up. I mean, I’ve already put one together. This time should be easier.” BJ added, treading lightly on his words like they were an icy pond in March. He’d been very careful to mention anything of the sort around Hawkeye- he was still very temperamental when it came to… the current situation.

“It’s nice, Beej. Thanks.” Hawkeye nodded, head swimming- no, drowning was better. “We, uh, we don’t really have room in here, though.”

“Actually, that’s your next present.” BJ said, smiling now, “It’s really for both of us; Charles is leaving. Not as far as he’d like to go, but leaving The Swamp. Colonel Potter and I had a talk, and he’s agreed to a deal that will be presented to Charles later today.”

Hawkeye arched an eyebrow, “And what is the deal? Firstborn to Lucifer?”

BJ laughed. Hawkeye’s humor was coming back in bits and pieces. It wasn’t the same as before… but it was coming back. “The deal is, if Charles can scrounge up an officer’s single tent from somewhere, he can set it up and have his own living quarters. He’ll find one so fast it’d make a supply sergeant go blind. Probably pay someone to set it up for him, but that’s not really our problem.”

Hawkeye’s grin exploded, “No more kippers over an open fire? No more opera? No more of that awful horn playing?”

“None of it.” BJ laughed, nodding.

Hawkeye was ecstatic. No more Charles in the tent! Charles was annoying to work with, but insufferable to live with. This put an end to that. And gave them room to set up a crib. Full circle back to that. The doctor’s expression fell again, “You know, Beej, I don’t really think we should set it up for a while. A long while. I mean, I don’t think it’s a good idea to have it out in the open like that.”

BJ frowned, “Yeah, I can see that. What about when we do set it up? What are you going to say about the baby in the crib that moved in with us?”

Hawkeye had actually thought about that. He had a terrible idea. One that wasn’t like him, wasn’t in line with the way he thought by any means. For now, though, he didn’t want to think about it. “Come on. Let’s get some coffee.” He said, simply glossing over the question as if he hadn’t been asked anything to begin with. The Captain stood from his bunk, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets before heading for the door.

BJ was a bit frustrated, though he was fully aware there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t make Hawkeye talk about things he didn’t want to. Even when they did concern him. “Coffee. Okay.”

The walk to the mess tent was frigid and miserable, and the sights were dull and equally miserable. Except now the ragged army canvas was draped in garland. Right before they made it to the mess tent, and warmth was yet so close, a very loud cry of excitement echoed through the compound as a thickly bundled-up Major Winchester ran through the double doors of Colonel Potter’s office, taking wide strides in the direction of the Swamp.

“I guess he just got the news.” Hawkeye laughed, opening the door to the mess tent for BJ, who quickly slipped in, Hawkeye directly behind him.

They were greeted by Father Mulcahy, who was handing out hot chocolate and coffee- around here, who could tell the honest to god difference?- at the door, a positively radiant grin on his face, “Merry Christmas!” he exclaimed, handing them each a lukewarm-at-best mug of powdered-chocolate.

“Merry Christmas, father.” Hawkeye replied, wrapping his freezing hands around the mug handed to him.

“I believe Major Freedman saved you two some seats over in the far corner. It’s going to be packed in here today.” The father chimed, happy as ever.

“A tent full of rowdy, childish, cold people. And then there’s the orphans.” Hawkeye joked. Of course, the kid’s party wasn’t until later in the evening.

Father Mulcahy laughed, “That’s the spirit, Hawkeye.”

BJ lead the two of them over to the corner table where, indeed, Sidney Freedman was sitting with his own mug of coffee- or chocolate, or whiskey, no one ever really knew what someone was drinking for sure around here. “Merry Christmas, Sidney.” BJ said, sliding into the bench with Hawkeye next to him.

“Merry Christmas, BJ, Hawkeye.” Sidney replied calmly, coolly. It never ceased to amaze how constant the psychiatrist’s demeanor was. You probably could have told him that MacArthur was secretly the Easter Bunny in disguise and he wouldn’t even blink. “Nice to see you out, Hawkeye.”

The dark-haired doctor simply nodded, taking a sip of his drink. He still wasn’t too keen on talking too much to Sidney, at least, not from a professional standpoint.

Once all the hot chocolate and coffee were gone, the cook started working on dinner for the evening, which would take longer than usual when accounting for the orphans and any locals that might wander in. This didn’t keep people from staying in the mess tent. After all, it was warmest here. Those who couldn’t stay made their way to post-op to attend to the lucky patients that were staying with them over the holidays.

BJ and Hawkeye spent the remainder of the day in the Swamp, where BJ chose to write back to Peg on his brand new stationary. It was the first five page letter he’d written in a while. It made him feel good, better than he’d felt for several weeks now.

Major Winchester was happily packing things up, laughing giddily about his new tent that would be here before breakfast the following morning. BJ was right- he did track one down _very_ quickly.  Now with Winchester going out, BJ just had to talk Hawkeye into letting the crib go up. He had a feeling that wouldn’t go down easily.

He felt that way, at least, until the Christmas party. Eleven small children flooded into the tent, with two adult chaperones from the orphanage- one American nun and one Korean woman- behind them. Several of the camp staff were helping younger kids go through the serving line for food, BJ included was helping a young girl no older than seven or eight fill up her plate, while Hawkeye sat back on one of the benches near the front of the tent. He was simply watching everyone else, when suddenly he felt something tugging on his pants leg.

The doctor looked down to find a small Korean child as the source, young enough or at least small enough that he thought the child a toddler. A little boy, based on hairstyle and clothing type. The child began climbing up onto Hawkeye’s lap, scaling his leg as if he was a piece of playground equipment.

Hawkeye simply laughed, “What are you doing?” he asked jovially, as if he’d actually get an answer.

The boy looked up at him, blinking a few times before forcing out a roughly constructed word, “Anjda!”

Hawkeye knew that one, actually. In his time here, he couldn’t quite speak in sentences or even disjointed phrases, but he’d picked up the stray word or two between translations. “Sit? You want to sit here?” he asked, sliding back on the bench to give the boy room.

BJ slid into the bench across the table, setting the orphan girl he’d been helping next to him. The entire tent was full of the same- personnel, child, personnel, child, all down the rows. Each one assisting in some way- feeding the smaller ones, helping cut pieces of food smaller, similar tasks. Nurse Kellye was further down the same table as BJ and Hawkeye helping a young boy open a candy cane.

“I see you made a friend.” BJ remarked, laughing as he handed a set of silverware to the girl next to him. She bowed her head briefly in thanks before sticking the fork in a mound of… that was mashed potatoes, not cement, right?

“Apparently I’m in his seat.” Hawkeye laughed, helping the young boy up onto the bench, which was just tall enough to be too much of a climb for him, it seemed. As soon as the boy was up on the bench, he crawled forward towards Hawkeye and then plopped down on the bench next to him.

 “Anjda!” The boy squealed happily. It seemed to be one of the few words he knew.

Hawkeye smiled. It was nice to see happy kids. God knows there weren’t enough of them around here most of the time. It was always a wreck in O.R when one was wheeled in on a table. Innocent bystanders of the highest caliber.

“You’re good with kids.” BJ remarked, watching his friend’s face carefully. He didn’t want to say something that would send him over the edge. That was easy to do these days.

Hawkeye paused, taken a bit off guard, “Yeah, well, I am a former child myself.” He replied, sarcastic smile appearing over his lips

BJ just smiled to himself. He knew Hawkeye, underneath all the layers- literally and metaphorically. He could see something in Hawkeye that maybe Hawkeye didn’t see in himself, or maybe didn’t want to; he was coming around.

 _It’s a Christmas miracle,_ BJ thought.

The doctor just smiled.

 


End file.
